


Christmas Morning

by aseriesofolafevents



Series: The Disaster Family [1]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, F/M, I couldn't help myse, even tho they aren't really a family, im too soft for this family, like one where they are happy, or they are but a very dysfunctional one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseriesofolafevents/pseuds/aseriesofolafevents
Summary: In which Marisa is woken up far too early, Asriel really is infuriating and Lyra just wants to open her presents.ORThe one where Marisa doesn't miss Asriel. Not even a little. Well, maybe a smidge.
Relationships: Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Series: The Disaster Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599304
Comments: 2
Kudos: 120





	Christmas Morning

**Author's Note:**

> hi ok so this is my first fic for the HDM fandom and for this ship! comments and kudos are always welcome! I hope you enjoy! lol why do I ship them so much this is bad.

The golden gleaming Oxford sun beamed into her sleeping face waking her and leaving her slightly startled and silently cursing the open curtains which she had forgotten to draw close the night before as she had tumbled into bed, exhausted from hours of wrapping and bow tying. Accepting that she was now, unfortunately awake and realising that in mere minutes she would be forced out of her bed by her thunderbolt of a daughter, she shifted, rolling over on her side and stretching her arm out, fingertips reaching to find the warm, sleeping body of her husband. But her hands fell flat, finding nothing but an empty cold space beside her and she sighed into her pillow, now opening her eyes to see the nothingness. Asriel was not here, she remembered, thinking of her husband waking up alone, in the North, on Christmas morning. She would have maybe felt a pang of pity for him, spending his Christmas without family but her annoyance for him leaving them in pursuit of his new research, stopped her from feeling so. She huffed, cursing him for the cold empty side of the bed she had been greeted with.

As if she had predetermined it, the door clattered open with a bang, and Lyra Belacqua came tumbling into her bedroom, her daemon Pan, currently taking the form of an overexcited puppy, came bounding along beside her, leaping onto Marisa’s bed with the same enthusiasm as her seven year old daughter did.  
“You’re awake.” Lyra commented as she claimed Asriel’s empty side of the bed, beside her mother. “I was afraid you’d sleep all morning.”  
Marisa couldn’t help but smirk at her daughter’s blatant honesty, a quality she had learnt from her father. She raised an eyebrow at Lyra, an attempt to be stern, but found herself pulling the small girl into her side and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Sternness could wait, it was Christmas, after all.  
“Merry Christmas darling.” She said into Lyra’s hair, taking in the girl’s scent, a mixture of the violet shampoo Marisa insisted she used to quell her locks and something wilder, like crisp moss on a winter’s day. “Excited to open your presents?”  
Lyra looked up at her mother with anticipation, a huge smile forming on her lips as she nodded furiously, she placed a small arm across Marisa’s midriff and snuggled further into her mother’s arms, not taking her eyes off hers. She liked this. Lyra missed her father terribly but she did enjoy the time she shared with her mother, who always seemed more affectionate and doting when Asriel was away. She raised a small eyebrow, her grin becoming cheekier. “Can I open them all right now?”  
Marisa shook her head. “Breakfast, then presents.” Pan and Lyra both gave an exasperated cry of irritation and Marisa frowned. “Lyra,” She said, in a warning tone. “Little girls who moan on Christmas don’t get any presents at all.”  
“I’m not moaning.” Lyra retorted, but the scowl on her face didn’t falter as she slipped out of her mother’s arms to stand at the head of the bed. It seemed as though her mood couldn’t remain for long, because in seconds she was smiling again, pulling her mother out of bed, her small tanned hand tugging at Marisa’s pale perfectly manicured one. Marisa sighed, yet allowed herself to be upheaved, slipping into some satin slippers and winding her silk robe against her front, tying it in the middle. She caught sight of the two of them in the mirror, hand in hand and something which vaguely resembles joy filled her. An insistent tug from Lyra, caused her to tear her eyes away from the mirror, following her daughter downstairs for breakfast.  
*************************************************************************  
Breakfast amounted to pancakes and pastries and bacon, heaped on plates as though the table was set for ten rather than just the two of them. There was no one around since the staff hardly show face after a job is done, which is preferable to the Belacqulas, who rarely liked to be disturbed. Lyra took the amount of food as a challenge, eating with such furious intensity that Marisa had to remind her to slow done and that her presents will still be there so there is no need to rush. Marisa picked absently at a croissant, sipping her tea with eloquence as her mind drifted to Asriel. She imagined him now, dining on a christmas breakfast of porridge or whatever else he could find that would keep him warm enough in the cold temperatures of the North. Who would be with him, she though, as her hands wrapped around the warm mug, eyes closing momentarily. Thoughts of young, pretty blonde research assistants flooded her mind and her stomach curled uncomfortably, her daemon whimpering so faintly that it was hardly audible, as she reminded that this was an expedition he had taken alone, with only Thorold to keep him company. There would be no pretty blondes taking her place, she assured herself, even though, she thought with a slight smirk, she wasn’t sure if anyone but her would be able to put up with him, especially in the North.

He had asked her to come, of course. Borderline begged her. But they both knew that her work was to be done here, in Oxford, if they ever had a chance of proving their wild, yet daringly believable theories. She wasn’t needed in the North and even though she craved the cold air filling her lungs nearly as much as he did, she had enough restraint and scholarly disposition to understand the necessity of her work in Oxford. It hadn’t been easy to resist his pleas, his fantasies of the two of them in the North whispered into her skin in the late of the night, but Lyra had definitely been an anchor, grounding her to the South and reminding the both of them that they worked for her future, away from the shadow of the Magisterium, rather then for their own frivolities. She looked at Lyra now, slowing down in her consumerist mission and she smiled lightly, brushing a lone curl off her face.  
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lyra asked in contempt, slumping back in her chair in a quite undignified way and holding her stomach with a satisfied sigh.  
“Like what, darling?” Marisa restrained from scolding Lyra for the belch that escaped her, yet didn’t deny herself a slight wince.  
Lyra giggled. “Like the way that I looked at my pancakes.” She looked longingly at the remaining pancakes, as if wishing she had the courage to take them on.  
“Well you are rather delicious,” Marisa joked leaning forward to tap her daughter on the nose as Lyra giggled even louder. “Actually, I was thinking that you reminded me of your father.”  
Lyra’s eyes brightened at the mention of Asriel, Marisa didn’t miss it. She stared out the window as though her father was out on the streets of Oxford. “I wonder if he misses me.” She said questioningly, her little hands cupping her face.  
“Of course he does.” Marisa replied quickly, taking another sip of tea. There was no doubt in her mind that Asriel missed Lyra. She swallowed. She hoped he was missing her nearly as much.  
“Do you miss him a lot?” Lyra turned to face her mother, scooting over in her chair.  
Marisa almost choked on her tea, Lyra’s question startlingly her. Of course she did, she missed him in her very bones. She missed waking up to him in the morning, she missed watching him bury his face in the book, refusing to emerge for the rest of the day, she missed the wild eyed look he got during their arguments, she missed the ways his eyes followed her in every room at every event, she missed the way he kissed her working his way down until-  
She slammed her cup down with unnecessary force, as Lyra jumped at the clatter. She might miss him, but she certainly was not ready to admit that aloud, despite the Golden Monkey’s desperate pouting. She gave him a sharp nudge under the table and he fell silent.  
“Now, why don’t we open some presents?” She asked and Lyra and Pan leapt, all the talk of their father lost from their mind.  
*************************************************************************  
Lyra wasted no time in tearing open her presents as Marisa sat on the sofa, watching her daughter frolic on the floor. She didn’t like to brag too much but she felt as though she had done well with Lyra’s presents, compromising a fair share of pretty things that she knew Lyra would look lovely in, with outdoorish adventurous presents, including a picture book of the North, which Lyra had spent almost twenty minutes pouring over until she had remembered the rest of the pile that lay behind her. By the time the small girl had worked her way to the bottom there remained only a small envelope, which Marisa narrowed her eyes at, not having seen it the night before.  
Lyra picked it up and peered at it, before her face broke into a grin. “It’s from Father!”  
Marisa bit her lip, trying to control the envy that bubbled up inside her. He hadn’t sent her anything. They didn’t usually write to each other, seeing it as a useless display of unnecessary affection, aligned with the added trouble of who was to be the first to write. But still, to receive nothing from him on Christmas Day left on silently seething, as she tried to control her emotions and stop her lips from forming a small pout of annoyance.  
“What does it say?” She tried to keep her voice light and breezy and it came out high pitched and slightly malicious, her fingers drumming against the side of her leg, itching to rip the letter from her daughter's hand and see his writing herself.  
Lyra answers too slowly for her liking, reading the words out quietly to herself as Marisa leans further and further forward. When Lyra’s finished she sits up smiling.  
“He says he misses me, very much and that he’ll give me his present next time he sees me.” She says with satisfaction, dropping the letter down with a painful disregard as she goes back to the book. Marisa caught the paper before it fell.  
“Does he says anything about me?” She demands haughtily, eagerly searching the letter. But it really was as simple as Lyra suggested; a couple of lines, complete with his signature and no mention of her whatsoever.  
She tried to ignore the painful twang she felt in her heart, placing the letter down carefully as she rose.  
“I’m going for a lie down darling.” She made her way out of the room, hardly looking back. “Call me if you need me.”  
She needed the nap more then she realised, her eyes fluttering shut as soon as she fell down on the bed.  
*************************************************************************  
She was awoken by Lyra’s voice, calling, seemingly from far away. She jolted up, panic searing through her body as she felt her heart freeze, listening for any sense of her daughter.  
“MOTHER!” There it was, the pitiful yell, which filled her head with terrible images of the Magisterium, taking Lyra, hurting Pan, ransacking their house for heretical research.  
“Lyra!” Marisa all but screamed, rushing out of her room, letting her know that she was coming, that she would save her, that she would always protect her “Lyra!”  
She all but jumped down the stairs, the monkey leaps ahead of her as she hurries round the corner to see-  
Him. Standing before her, still wearing his Northern attire despite the fire crackling in the corner. Lyra clung to his arm, grinning as she looked between her parents, Asriel wearing an infuriating smirk. Marisa lifted her chin a little higher, acutely aware of her heavy breathing, flushed cheeks and tousled hair. He looked at her with such easy intensity that it took all the strength she had not to fling herself into his arms and beg him to take her there and now but, reminding herself that Lyra is standing inches away somehow kept her steady, alongside the desire to remain in control.  
“Asriel.” She whispered his name as though it was a prayer and maybe it is because he’s here isn’t he? His gaze penetrated her very being, his eyes tracing her outline in the fiery glow and even though she is Marisa Belacqula and she doesn’t melt, she has a hard time not dissolving into a puddle at his feet. She used to worry, after they got married, that their lives would grow boring and they’d find themselves tiring of one another but then he looks at her like that and she understands that they will never be boring or tiresome.

“Miss me?” He asked, striding across the room towards and he didn’t expect a reply, she knew and she didn’t even think about giving him one.  
“You’re burnt.” She told him, as his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her in and she allowed her fingers to brush the top of his pink nose, biting her lip with excitement when he flinched slightly, his skin hot and sensitive against her touch. He responded by kissing her, passionately, seemingly ignorant of Lyra, who responded by making puking noises as she ran around the two of them, circling their entwined bodies.  
“Gross.” Pan agreed with Lyra as she shook her head in disgust, screwing up her nose. Why did her parents have to be this in love, she thought. It would be easier if they hated each other, like neighbour Jimmy’s parents did.  
Sensing Lyra’s discomfort, Marisa was the first to break away, leaning back to take him in properly. Her gaze drifted to Lyra, who understood her mother’s irritation, therefore choosing to hide behind her father, who merely grinned.  
“Lyra..” Marisa warned and Lyra’s head peeped from behind her father’s legs, peering up at her mother. “Do you know how worried you made me?”  
Lyra glanced up at her father who pulled a face of amusement, causing Lira to giggle. Marisa rolled her eyes and broke away from Asriel’s grip.  
“Sorry!” Lyra called, not meaning it in the slightest, as she went back to her book on the North.  
“Must you undermine me mere seconds after walking in the door?” Marisa asked Asriel, arms folded across her chest in contempt. Asriel merely grinned back, before turning to Lyra.  
“I believe I promised you a present.” He told her and she leapt up, jumping up and down with excitement. “I think there may be a package, sat downstairs with your name on it.”  
Lyra squealed with delight before tearing out of the room, closely followed by Pan.  
“No gift for me, Marisa?” Asriel asked, his eyes wide, suddenly feeling playful.  
Marisa’s eyes glittered, ready to rise to his bait. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stelmaria and her monkey, rubbing themselves against each other, briefly.  
“You’ll have to wait.” she teased, pulling herself into him and leaning into his ear, her voice barely audible. “And trust me, my lord, I’m worth the wait.”  
She turned around instantly, knowing his eyes were on her, the knowledge giving her an extra saunter as she went to join her daughter.

She was not a woman to melt. Especially under a man. But who could blame her when, hours later, with Lyra tucked up in bed, the two of them finally alone, she found herself soften under his touch, proving to him that she was, in fact, worth the wait. Who could blame her when, as his lips trailed down her neck she whispered things she never normally would, with anyone else, anywhere else.  
“I missed you so much, it hurt.” She told him as he stopped, holding her, his eyes piercing into hers. He looked at her with such a look that could only be described as heresy as she felt his grip on her tightened, fingers digging into her back.  
“Merry Christmas, Marisa.” He replied and she tipped her head back and laughed, real and genuine as they began to exchange seasonal gifts.


End file.
